Britain. The Garden of CYMBELINE’S Palace. | |
| |
Enter two Gentlemen. | |
| First Gent. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods | |
| No more obey the heavens than our courtiers | 4 |
| Still seem as does the king. | |
| Sec. Gent. But what’s the matter? | |
| First Gent. His daughter, and the heir of ’s kingdom, whom | |
| He purpos’d to his wife’s sole son,—a widow | 8 |
| That late he married,—hath referr’d herself | |
| Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She’s wedded; | |
| Her husband banish’d, she imprison’d: all | |
| Is outward sorrow, though I think the king | 12 |
| Be touch’d at very heart. | |
| Sec. Gent. None but the king? | |
| First Gent. He that hath lost her too; so is the queen, | |
| That most desir’d the match; but not a courtier, | 16 |
| Although they wear their faces to the bent | |
| Of the king’s looks, hath a heart that is not | |
| Glad at the thing they scowl at. | |
| Sec. Gent. And why so? | 20 |
| First Gent. He that hath miss’d the princess is a thing | |
| Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her,— | |
| I mean that married her, alack! good man! | |
| And therefore banish’d—is a creature such | 24 |
| As, to seek through the regions of the earth | |
| For one his like, there would be something failing | |
| In him that should compare. I do not think | |
| So fair an outward and such stuff within | 28 |
| Endows a man but he. | |
| Sec. Gent. You speak him far. | |
| First Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself, | |
| Crush him together rather than unfold | 32 |
| His measure duly. | |
| Sec. Gent. What’s his name and birth? | |
| First Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: his father | |
| Was called Sicilius, who did join his honour | 36 |
| Against the Romans with Cassibelan, | |
| But had his titles by Tenantius whom | |
| He serv’d with glory and admir’d success, | |
| So gain’d the sur-addition Leonatus; | 40 |
| And had, besides this gentleman in question, | |
| Two other sons, who in the wars o’ the time | |
| Died with their swords in hand; for which their father— | |
| Then old and fond of issue—took such sorrow | 44 |
| That he quit being, and his gentle lady, | |
| Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas’d | |
| As he was born. The king, he takes the babe | |
| To his protection; calls him Posthumus Leonatus; | 48 |
| Breeds him and makes him of his bedchamber, | |
| Puts to him all the learnings that his time | |
| Could make him the receiver of; which he took, | |
| As we do air, fast as ’twas minister’d, | 52 |
| And in’s spring became a harvest; liv’d in court,— | |
| Which rare it is to do—most prais’d, most lov’d; | |
| A sample to the youngest, to the more mature | |
| A glass that feated them, and to the graver | 56 |
| A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, | |
| For whom he now is banish’d, her own price | |
| Proclaims how she esteem’d him and his virtue; | |
| By her election may be truly read | 60 |
| What kind of man he is. | |
| Sec. Gent. I honour him, | |
| Even out of your report. But pray you, tell me, | |
| Is she sole child to the king? | 64 |
| First Gent. His only child. | |
| He had two sons,—if this be worth your hearing, | |
| Mark it,—the eldest of them at three years old, | |
| I’ the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery | 68 |
| Were stol’n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge | |
| Which way they went. | |
| Sec. Gent. How long is this ago? | |
| First Gent. Some twenty years. | 72 |
| Sec. Gent. That a king’s children should be so convey’d, | |
| So slackly guarded, and the search so slow, | |
| That could not trace them! | |
| First Gent. Howsoe’er ’tis strange, | 76 |
| Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d at, | |
| Yet is it true, sir. | |
| Sec. Gent. I do well believe you. | |
| First Gent. We must forbear. Here comes the gentleman, | 80 |
| The queen, and princess. [Exeunt. | |
| |
Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. | |
| Queen. No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter, | |
| After the slander of most step-mothers, | 84 |
| Evil-ey’d unto you; you’re my prisoner, but | |
| Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys | |
| That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, | |
| So soon as I can win the offended king, | 88 |
| I will be known your advocate; marry, yet | |
| The fire of rage is in him, and ’twere good | |
| You lean’d unto his sentence with what patience | |
| Your wisdom may inform you. | 92 |
| Post. Please your highness, | |
| I will from hence to-day. | |
| Queen. You know the peril: | |
| I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying | 96 |
| The pangs of barr’d affections, though the king | |
| Hath charg’d you should not speak together. [Exit. | |
| Imo. O! | |
| Dissembling courtesy. How fine this tyrant | 100 |
| Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, | |
| I something fear my father’s wrath; but nothing,— | |
| Always reserv’d my holy duty,—what | |
| His rage can do on me. You must be gone; | 104 |
| And I shall here abide the hourly shot | |
| Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, | |
| But that there is this jewel in the world | |
| That I may see again. | 108 |
| Post. My queen! my mistress! | |
| O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause | |
| To be suspected of more tenderness | |
| Than doth become a man. I will remain | 112 |
| The loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth. | |
| My residence in Rome at one Philario’s, | |
| Who to my father was a friend, to me | |
| Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, | 116 |
| And with mine eyes I’ll drink the words you send, | |
| Though ink be made of gall. | |
| |
Re-Enter QUEEN. | |
| Queen. Be brief, I pray you; | 120 |
| If the king come, I shall incur I know not | |
| How much of his displeasure. [Aside.] Yet I’ll move him | |
| To walk this way. I never do him wrong, | |
| But he does buy my injuries to be friends, | 124 |
| Pays dear for my offences. [Exit. | |
| Post. Should we be taking leave | |
| As long a term as yet we have to live, | |
| The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! | 128 |
| Imo. Nay, stay a little: | |
| Were you but riding forth to air yourself | |
| Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; | |
| This diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart; | 132 |
| But keep it till you woo another wife, | |
| When Imogen is dead. | |
| Post. How! how! another? | |
| You gentle gods, give me but this I have, | 136 |
| And sear up my embracements from a next | |
| With bonds of death!—Remain, remain thou here [Putting on the ring. | |
| While sense can keep it on! And, sweetest, fairest, | |
| As I my poor self did exchange for you, | 140 |
| To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles | |
| I still win of you; for my sake wear this; | |
| It is a manacle of love; I’ll place it | |
| Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting a bracelet on her arm. | 144 |
| Imo. O the gods! | |
| When shall we see again? | |
| |
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords. | |
| Post. Alack! the king! | 148 |
| Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! | |
| If after this command thou fraught the court | |
| With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! | |
| Thou’rt poison to my blood. | 152 |
| Post. The gods protect you | |
| And bless the good remainders of the court! | |
| I am gone. [Exit. | |
| Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death | 156 |
| More sharp than this is. | |
| Cym. O disloyal thing, | |
| That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st instead | |
| A year’s age on me. | 160 |
| Imo. I beseech you, sir, | |
| Harm not yourself with your vexation; | |
| I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare | |
| Subdues all pangs, all fears. | 164 |
| Cym. Past grace? obedience? | |
| Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. | |
| Cym. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! | |
| Imo. O bless’d, that I might not! I chose an eagle | 168 |
| And did avoid a puttock. | |
| Cym. Thou took’st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne | |
| A seat for baseness. | |
| Imo. No; I rather added | 172 |
| A lustre to it. | |
| Cym. O thou vile one! | |
| Imo. Sir, | |
| It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus; | 176 |
| You bred him as my playfellow, and he is | |
| A man worth any woman, overbuys me | |
| Almost the sum he pays. | |
| Cym. What! art thou mad? | 180 |
| Imo. Almost, sir; heaven restore me! Would I were | |
| A neat-herd’s daughter, and my Leonatus | |
| Our neighbour shepherd’s son! | |
| Cym. Thou foolish thing! | 184 |
| |
Re-Enter QUEEN. | |
| They were again together; you have done | |
| Not after our command. Away with her, | |
| And pen her up. | 188 |
| Queen. Beseech your patience. Peace! | |
| Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, | |
| Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort | |
| Out of your best advice. | 192 |
| Cym. Nay, let her languish | |
| A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, | |
| Die of this folly! [Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords. | |
| Queen. Fie! you must give way: | 196 |
| |
Enter PISANIO. | |
| Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? | |
| Pis. My lord your son drew on my master. | |
| Queen. Ha! | 200 |
| No harm, I trust, is done? | |
| Pis. There might have been, | |
| But that my master rather play’d than fought, | |
| And had no help of anger; they were parted | 204 |
| By gentlemen at hand. | |
| Queen. I am very glad on ’t. | |
| Imo. Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his part. | |
| To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! | 208 |
| I would they were in Afric both together, | |
| Myself by with a needle, that I might prick | |
| The goer-back. Why came you from your master? | |
| Pis. On his command: he would not suffer me | 212 |
| To bring him to the haven; left these notes | |
| Of what commands I should be subject to, | |
| When ’t pleas’d you to employ me. | |
| Queen. This hath been | 216 |
| Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honour | |
| He will remain so. | |
| Pis. I humbly thank your highness. | |
| Queen. Pray, walk a while. | 220 |
| Imo. [To PISANIO.] About some half-hour hence, | |
| I pray you, speak with me. You shall at least | |
| Go see my lord aboard; for this time leave me. [Exeunt. | |
